


Game of Scones

by EaglePursuit



Series: Another Summer's Sunny Days [8]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dipcifica, F/M, Gradual Dipcifica, Post-Gravity Falls, Returning to Gravity Falls, Short, Teenage Dipper Pines, Teenage Dipper Pines and Mabel Pines, Teenage Mabel Pines, Teenage Pacifica Northwest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EaglePursuit/pseuds/EaglePursuit
Summary: Part 8 in the Another Summer's Sunny Days series. Mabel invites Pacifica to the Mystery Shack to play Sweetsland, but things go awry when Pacifica stumbles upon the Infinity-Sided Die and teleports the duo to an alternate dimension
Relationships: Pacifica Northwest/Dipper Pines
Series: Another Summer's Sunny Days [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792519
Kudos: 16





	Game of Scones

**Author's Note:**

> Based on: Disney’s Gravity Falls  
> Created by: Alex Hirsch
> 
> Beta readers: my wife & PK2317  
> Art by: KID | @KIDWMA

Game of Scones

“Ma’am, do you know why you’re here?” asked TV host Sassica sympathetically. Sassica sat in an armchair facing another woman with a thin face, but whose body was bloated and wriggling under her striped blouse and khaki pants. The graphic at the bottom of the screen listed her name as Karen Smothers.

“Is it because I keep my eighty-two chihuahuas inside my clothes?” Karen guessed.

“It’s ‘cuz you ackin’ so cray-cray!” Sassica said saucily. The audience cheered.

“No, it’s cuz you paid her to come on TV like that,” Stan muttered at the television, sitting in the Mystery Shack living room with Mabel. “Isn’t there something better on?” He was dressed in his sleeveless undershirt and a pair of stained athletic shorts. 

Mabel held up the Gravity Falls Gossiper’s TV schedule. “There’s also golf, competitive grass growing, and infomercials.” She shuddered.

Stan shrugged. “Eh, let’s watch the infomercials. It’s kind of a professional courtesy between swindlers.”

Dipper came down the stairs and stopped in the living room to see what they were doing. “Hey, guys.”

“Ugh!” Stan groused. “You know what the worst part of retirement is? There’s nothing you absolutely have to do, so there’s never a reason to just get up. I’ve never spent so much time just watching garbage TV.” 

“You could come down to the lab with Grunkle Ford and I. He’s going to show me how to record and analyze data with differential logarithmic functions,” Dipper suggested.

“No way.” Stan shook his head. “I’m not doing his nerdy math stuff. I’d rather do my taxes.”

“Doesn’t doing taxes involve math?” Mabel asked disingenuously.

“No, sweetie.” Stan patted her head. “It’s just lyin’ with numbers.”

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. “I’ll get it.” Dipper stepped in the foyer and opened the front door to find Pacifica. “Oh, hi.” 

“Hi, Dipper.” She smiled coolly.

They looked at each other awkwardly until Dipper cleared his throat. “So uh, do you need help with a ghost or a wrinkle or…”

“Ugh. I’m not here to ask you for help.” Pacifica rolled her eyes. “Mabel invited me over to hang out.”

“Oh,” A glimmer of disappointment crossed his face for a fraction of a second. “Uh, that’s cool, I guess.”

“If you want, you could join us.” She had a hint of hopefulness in her voice.

But it was lost on him. “Nah, I’m going down to the lab to help Grunkle Ford.”

“Fine, whatever.” 

Dipper sighed. “Anyway, I, uh...see you ‘borrowed’ your dad’s car.” He nodded towards the large, black luxury SUV parked crookedly outside. “I take it you’re grounded?” 

“Yeah.” Pacifica shrugged indifferently. “Father found out I was the one changing his plane tickets from first class to economy.”

He stifled a laugh. “That’s...that’s pretty good.”

Mabel stepped into the doorway. “Hi, Paz! Look at you guys, being all friends and stuff. Don’t let Dipstick get in your way.” She ushered her inside.

“I haven’t actually been in your living room when it wasn’t, like, in a post-apocalyptic state.” Pacifica stepped into the middle of the room, looking curiously at the tacky decor.

Mabel followed her in and apologized reflexively, “Sorry, it’s not that much better.” 

“Hey, I’m trying to watch infomercials here,” Stan griped, craning his neck to see around them.

Pacifica waved her hand dismissively. “It’s no big deal. You learn to tolerate a lot when you share a single bathroom with a dozen people, a manotaur, a multibear, a unicorn, and multiple gnomes. So what do you want to do?”

“I was thinking we could play board games,” Mabel suggested enthusiastically as she opened the closet where the games were stored.

Dipper’s interest was piqued. “Um... You know, Grunkle Ford probably doesn’t need my help just yet. Maybe I can hang out for a few games. What are you thinking? World Conquest? World War Two: The Game? Railroad Mogul?”

“Better.” Mabel smiled broadly and pulled out a bright pink box decorated with pictures of confections. “Sweetsland!”

“Oh, no! Hey!” Dipper held his hand to his ear. “I think I  _ do _ hear Grunkle Ford calling me. Coming, Grunkle Ford!” He walked quickly to the vending machine in the gift shop before anyone could gainsay him.

“What about you, Grunkle Stan?” Mabel grinned broadly. “Are you up for traversing dessert deserts and corn-syrupy seas?”

Stan stood up. “I, uh...I never did finish scraping the barnacles off the Stan o’ War’s hull. I think I’m gonna go keelhaul myself!” He sprinted out the front door.

Mabel shrugged cheerfully. She wasn’t about to let their negativity get her down. “I guess it’s just us girls.”

“I’ve never played a board game before.” Pacifica looked uneasily at the box.

“What!? Really?” Mabel’s eyes opened wide.

“Do you really think my parents would ever play anything like this with me?” Pacifica groused.

“Not even Real Estate Developer!?” 

“They said it wasn’t realistic enough.”

“Wow, you are in for a treat, girl!” Mabel sat on the floor and removed the lid. She unfolded the board and set it in the middle while Pacifica sat down across from her. She held out some tokens. “Do you want to be Claudia Cookie, Paula Poundcake, Linda Licorice, or Sara Stroopwaffel?”

Pacifica examined the tokens. “Does it make a difference?”

“Not really,” Mabel replied. “It just helps keep track of your progress and tells us apart.”

“Um, I’ll be Linda.” She held up the token with a picture of a girl with ropey red hair holding a long piece of black licorice.

“I’ll be Claudia.” Mabel kept the token with a brunette girl holding a huge chocolate chip cookie. She put the others back in the box and picked up a six-sided white die. “Okay, let’s roll to see who goes first. Highest number starts.” Mabel shook the die in her hand then let it tumble across the board. It landed with three pips facing up.

Pacifica picked up the die and shook it between her hands, releasing it onto the board. It skittered erratically off the edge and fell through a knothole in an old wooden floorboard. “It’s gone!” She peered through the hole.

“It’s okay,” Mabel reassured her. “We can just borrow a die from Dipper’s nerd game. I don’t think he will care.” They walked to the game closet.

Mabel found the Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons box and opened it. She pulled a felt bag from the box and dumped it into the lid, revealing a dozen dice of different shapes and a small box.

“Is this jewelry?” Pacifica picked up the black clamshell box and opened it. Inside was a multi-faceted glowing die. “Whatever it is, it’s pretty.” She held it up, looking closely at ever-changing symbols on its surface.

“Oh, no!” Mabel said, alarmed. “That’s supposed to be locked in Grunkle Ford’s lab. It’s really dangerous.”

Pacifica tried to put it back in the box, but it slipped out of her fingers, falling to the floor. She cringed as it rolled towards the Sweetsland board, expecting an explosion, but it stopped and laid on the floor. The tiny symbols no longer moved. “What does it say?” 

Mabel picked it up and showed it to her. It had a tiny picture of a llama.

The Sweetsland board began to shake and clatter on the floor. It transformed into a rectangular vortex of swirling colors, drawing the two girls towards it. The force was powerful and swept them off their feet. Mabel grabbed Pacifica’s wrist with one hand and tried to launch her grappling hook with the other, but the hook was sucked into the portal in the middle of the board, followed by both girls.

* * *

“Ugh, what happened?” Mabel awoke with her head swimming and her vision blurry. She opened her eyes, then squinted at the flood of bright, sharp colors that assaulted her retinas.

“I don’t know, but we’re sitting in, like, green mud.” Pacifica’s voice came from nearby, carrying a tone of disgust.

Mabel’s head cleared and she stuck her finger in it, bringing a clump up to her eye to examine. “This isn’t mud.” She licked it off her finger. “It’s cake frosting!”

“Ew, carbs. Gross!” Pacifica sneered in revulsion, then suddenly jumped up. “What are you doing!?” 

“Frosting angel!” Mabel giggled, laying on her back and swishing her arms and legs back and forth through the frosting.

Pacifica watched Mabel’s antics in disgust. Something felt wrong to her, besides the world being covered with frosting. “Oh no!” She felt her hair. “Do I have braids? Or worse, _ sticky _ braids?”

“Oh my gosh!” Mabel climbed to her feet. “Your hair is red licorice! You’re Linda Licorice!”

Pacifica smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Let me guess, we’re trapped inside the game, aren’t we?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mabel blew a raspberry. “I think we were sucked into a portal to a Sweetsland dimension.”

“I don’t see much of a difference.” Pacifica pinched the bridge of her nose. “We still need to find a way to get home.”

Mabel eyed Pacifica’s licorice hair again. “So if you’re Linda Licorice...then I’m Claudia Cookie. But where’s my giant cookie?”

“Is that it?” Pacifica pointed. A huge chocolate chip cookie, several feet in diameter, was stuck edgewise in the frosting a few feet away. 

Mabel grasped it and pulled. The cookie came free and she brought it up to her mouth to take a bite, then stopped. “It has handles. I think it’s a cookie sled.”

“It’s not a sled. It’s a shield,” said a powerful voice behind them.

The girls turned to look at the speaker. It was a formidable looking woman with a body made out of stacked macarons and a crown of rock candy crystals on her head. Mabel’s eyes grew large. “You’re Queen Sweets! You’re the queen of Sweetsland!”

“Sadly, I am simply Madam Sweets now. All is not well in this kingdom. I was usurped by Duchess Cruller and her Kolache mercenaries,” the woman said sadly. “I saw you fall from a hole in the sky and I hoped you would be fighters of renown who could help me reclaim the Throne of Scone and my Strawberry Scepter.”

“Madam Sweets, I don’t know anything about, like, fighting and whatever.” Pacifica held up her hands, as if her expensive manicure and the effects of her scrupulous skincare regimen made that obvious. “Can you just help us get home?” 

“Alas, I would be able to if I but had my scepter in hand,” Madam Sweets told her. “It contains powerful magic.”

“How do we get it for you, your highness?” Mabel stepped forward.

Pacifica looked at her incredulously. “Are you seriously considering this!?”

“Do you have a better plan?” Mabel shot back.

“I don’t have a plan! I don’t have a weapon! I don’t even have a shield!” 

“Please, look at your waist,” Madam Sweets said pleasantly.

Pacifica looked down. A long coil of black licorice was wrapped around her torso like a belt. She unwound it to discover it was a bullwhip.

“Awesome!” Mabel sang.

“Fine,” Pacifica sighed reluctantly. “How do we find this scepter?”

“The Duchess resides in the Cupcake Castle in the Hills of Fondant.” Madam Sweets pointed at distant shadows that swept along the horizon.

Mabel took the opportunity to finally look around. She noticed clusters of small, colorful florets set on the flat, green frosting that spread into the distance all around them. “Are we in Sheetcake Valley?”

“That is correct, shieldmaiden,” replied Madam Sweets. “Now go. I cannot travel openly, so you must proceed without me. When the time comes, I will find you.” She transformed into a swarm of butterflies made out of flaky  crêpes, which quickly dissipated across the plain.

Pacifica muttered angrily as they set off in the direction Madam Sweets had pointed, leaving footprints in the frosting. “This is all my fault for losing the stupid die.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Mabel tried to make her feel better. “This isn’t the worst thing that’s happened to me. Did you know I fought a unicorn in hand to hand combat? I can probably  _ eat _ my way through whatever Sweetsland has in store for us.”

“Whatever,” Pacifica grumbled. “Let’s keep moving. I feel fatter just being here.”

* * *

Several hours later, as the girls approached the Hills of Fondant, they began to encounter fields plowed with neat, straight furrows which turned over the rich, chocolatey cake beneath the green frosting. Mabel was delighted when she experimentally kicked over a clod of cake and discovered gummy worms writhing below. She picked one up, licked it, then popped it in her mouth.

“Ugh.” Pacifica wanted to vomit.

“What?” Mabel smiled, revealing chunks of gummy worm in her teeth.

“Don’t do that again.”

In the shadow of the hills they found a road which led them to a small village. A sign at the edge of the community gave it the name Treacletown. Treacletown was strangely quiet as they walked down the street. Mabel and Pacifica occasionally glimpsed faces behind doors or shutters as they were slammed shut.

In the center of town they found a communal barn, some clumps of pocky stick trees, and a crossroads. There was no sign here to point the way to Cupcake Castle and four possible roads to take into the hills. The two travellers quickly determined that they should ask for directions. Mabel picked a small house at random and knocked at the door.

A man’s voice from within called out, “Please, leave us. We are poor and have nothing of value!”

“We don’t want to take your things. We are lost and trying to find our way to the Cupcake Castle,” Mabel responded.

A moment later the door was unbarred and a man with a syrupy-sweet, light brown face opened it just enough to speak through. “You’re not from Queen Cruller, are you?” he asked suspiciously.

Pacifica looked from the man to Mabel in confusion. “I thought she was a duchess.”

“She was,” the Treacletown man replied with a mix of fear and contempt. “But now she expects everyone to call her queen. I can tell now you’re not Kolaches. What business do you have at the castle?”

“We are from a faraway land called Gravity Falls,” Mabel began, gesturing with her hands for emphasis. “Well, technically she’s from Gravity Falls. I’m from California. But anyway, we are unable to return until we complete a task on behalf of a certain former resident of the castle.” She winked.

The man nodded in comprehension. “You must be capable warriors then, to have been given such a task.”

Pacifica shrugged noncommittally.

“My name’s Tart, by the way,” he said warmly. “Before I tell you which way to go, could I ask a favor?”

“You might.” Pacifica bristled. “But we already have our hands full with our current job.”

“Paz,” Mabel gently chastised her friend. “Let’s at least hear what he wants.”

Pacifica sighed. “Fine.”

“You see,” Tart said humbly, “every year the Duchess’s Kolaches come and raid our village at harvest time. And we just had our harvest. They could arrive at any moment, and we just ain’t fighters, ya see? Could you stay and fight off the Kolaches for us?”

“Oh, definitely not,” Pacifica said icily. “That’s just going to slow us down. And if we can get the scepter before the duchess’s warriors get here, your people won’t even get raided at all.”

Mabel disagreed. “If we help these people, we’ll get a  _ taste  _ of what we’re up against before we get to the castle” She waggled her eyebrows.

“You’ve been waiting for a chance to use that this whole time, haven’t you?” Pacifica rolled her eyes.

Mabel grinned. “Mmmmmaybe.”

“Okay.” Pacifica glared at her cohort. “You stay here and help these cake farmers. I’ll go to the castle and get the scepter. Then we’ll get out of here.”

“I don’t like us being separated, but fine.” Mabel frowned. “Go check out the castle. But don’t try anything until I get there to help.” 

Pacifica agreed reluctantly.

“Alright,” Tart rubbed his hands together. “You just take the first road on the left, next to the barn. After a couple hours walking, you’ll be right at the Cupcake Castle’s gate.”

“Thanks,” Pacifica told Tart curtly, then turned to Mabel. “Catch up with me as soon as you can and don’t get hurt.”

“I think I’ll take my time.” —she grinned as Pacifica walked away— “Really  _ savor _ the experience!”

Pacifica looked back. “No more puns!”

* * *

“Alright, you maggots!” Mabel yelled. “I’m gonna whip you into shape!” She was addressing a motley assembly of several dozen Treacletowners at the crossroads. They were mostly older men, worn from years of working in the fields.

“We don’t have weapons!” one said worriedly.

“I have a plan for that,” Mabel replied. She walked up to one of the pocky stick trees and broke off a long straight limb. “We’ll make a bunch of these and sharpen the ends. Then we can use them as spears.” She held it up for them to see.

“Do we get any armor?” another asked.

“Er, no,” Mabel hesitated. “But look at me! I’m a rugged warrior and I’m wearing a sweater! All the same, though, I think we can take down some doors to use as shields. Two people to a door. We’ll divide into five teams, one for each road. We let them get to the crossroads, then surround them. Box them in with the door-shields. They’ll have to give up.”

“Do you think it will work?” asked Tart.

“I saw a movie where a bunch of hot guys in loincloths totally held off, like, a million bad guys with just shields and spears and stuff for three whole days. And then… Well, they were surrounded and killed. But I’m sure that won’t happen to us,” Mabel told him confidently.

“What’s a movie?” Tart asked, confused.

* * *

Cupcake Castle laid at the heart of a bustling town of the same name filled with locals going about their daily routines. In the square near the castle’s main gate there was a bustling market filled with tradespeople of all stripes hawking their wares. There were farmers selling candycorn, drapers selling fabric made from cotton candy, and piesmiths advertising the finest pies in the land with their loud, sing-songy voices.

Pacifica grew impatient with waiting outside the castle. She had walked around it twice, examining the jelly moat, the walls of locally quarried fondant, the milk chocolate drawbridge, and the towers capped with massive pink cupcakes. Kolache sentries armed with lollipop maces and swords made of sharpened stick candies guarded the gatehouse and patrolled the walls. She watched commoners carry goods in and out of the main gate without being stopped by the guards.

She hated to admit it, but being surrounded by candy and desserts was making her hungry, which made her all the more irritable and impatient. She decided it was high time to go inside and see what was happening. Pacifica knew that if you walked into a place acting like you had a reason to be there, that’s what people would see. So she stole a basket from a market stall, loaded it with freshly washed cotton candy linens from someone’s backyard, and carried it with confidence right past the heavily-armed Kolaches guarding the main gate.

Once in the courtyard she made straight for the central keep, but the Kolaches standing guard at the front door directed her to use the servant’s entrance in the rear. She bristled to be thought of as a servant, but it had its benefits. Servants could go virtually anywhere and be completely ignored.

Pacifica carried her pilfered laundry up and down the corridors of the keep until she found the throne room. A woman who greatly resembled a wrinkly doughnut sat on a throne on a dias in the middle of the room. It was normal looking as far as thrones went, except it was made out of peppermint bark and there was a large scone positioned underneath it. All the other people in the room faced the throne with their backs to the entrance, listening to some kind of steward read a proclamation from a piece of  crêpe.

Pacifica ditched the laundry in an adjacent chamber and walked into the throne room, standing with her back to the wall. The steward rambled on through several more pieces of  crêpe before two people approached the duchess and asked her to settle a dispute. One resembled an apple fritter while the other, a moonpie.

All the while Pacifica slowly edged her way around the room until she had a clear side view of the duchess. From there she could clearly see the Strawberry Scepter in the duchess’s hand. The duchess occasionally pointed or gestured with it as she asked questions about the dispute, but she never set it down.

Pacifica had just decided to rejoin the servant class and wait for Mabel outside when a pair of Kolaches rushed into the throne room, interrupting a dry lecture on the importance of punctual tribute payments. One was a castle guard, clean in his dress uniform. He was assisting the other, a more bedraggled specimen, wearing practical combat armor and splattered with some kind of fruit filling. It was not apparent whether the filling was his or another Kolache’s.

Both pastries fell to their knees before the duchess. “Your highness,” the wounded Kolache began, “my troop was collecting tribute in Treacletown. We were attacked...by the townsfolk. It was an ambush. I...I was the only one who managed to escape.”

Pacifica recognized the name of the town and froze. Apparently Mabel’s defense of the village had met with overwhelming success, she surmised.

“Silence!” the duchess spoke. “I want every person in this chamber to swear to secrecy. We cannot allow word of this insurgency to spread.”

“Yes, your majesty,” the courtiers mumbled discordantly. It was clear the duchess’s wrath made them all uncomfortable.

The duchess turned to the steward. “Minister Krumkake, assemble every soldier we can spare. I will lead an army to Treacletown and make an example of them. We must begin immediately.”

“The court is dismissed!” the minister proclaimed.

The courtiers began to file out of the throne room and down the hall. Pacifica followed along with the crowd until a hand grabbed her by the shoulder.

She turned to find herself face to face with Minister Krumkake. “What’s the hurry, Miss Licorice? Some place to be?”

“Actually, yes,” Pacifica replied nervously. “I just realized I’m late to meet a friend.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” Krumkake chuckled. “How could you be so foolish to think we wouldn’t notice your famous hair? Did you think the queen has forgotten about your adventures at her expense?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Pacifica gulped. “I just got here today.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to work on your memory in the dungeon.” He smiled unpleasantly and summoned a pair of guards to escort her.

The Kolache guards relieved her of her black licorice whip and seized her by the arms. They marched her through a series of corridors and down a flight of stairs into the dungeon. She looked into the other cells as she passed them. Each had three walls of fondant blocks while the fourth was open except for thick bars made of chocolate-covered pretzels. Most were unoccupied, but some had one or two prisoners who had been there for extended periods of time. The guards tossed her roughly into the cell on the end of the row and slammed the door shut.

Pacifica sat with her back against the wall. “This is worse than being grounded,” she muttered to herself miserably. “Now an army of desserts is marching towards Mabel and I’m stuck in this stupid prison. We’re never going to get that scepter and I’m going to die here. This is all my fault!” She slammed the back of her head against the wall. It gave a little. Pacifica turned to look at it. The fondant blocks were surprisingly soft. She poked her finger into it and pulled out a clump. She had an epiphany. “Mabel would eat this. She’d eat right through the wall,” Pacifica whispered. She stuck the clump in her mouth. It was sweet and almost like birthday cake frosting.

She plunged her whole hand into the wall, breaking through the fondant and found dark chocolate cake on the other side. “I’m going to have to do pilates for months,” she groaned, then stuffed a handful into her mouth.

* * *

Mabel’s Militia—that’s what she called it—sat despondently on bushel baskets of candycorn in Treacletown’s communal barn. They had been feasting in celebration of their victory with the other townsfolk when the duchess and an army of Kolaches were spotted on the road from Cupcake Castle. The Militia had initially set up a defensive front at the edge of Treacletown, but Mabel ordered them to withdraw to the safety of the barn, the only defensible building in the village, when the scale of the advancing force became apparent. Now they were locked inside and surrounded.

Mabel stood in the barn’s loft with Tart, looking out through the window at the Kolaches assembled outside. A squad of them carried a Swiss roll up from the rear to the barricaded barn door. Mabel and Tart watched as the Kolaches began swinging it in unison with a song to keep cadence. The tense atmosphere inside the barn was made palpable by the rhythmic thumping.

“Do you really think it will work?” Tart asked with concern.

“Of course I do.” Mabel blew a raspberry at him. “I once fought a room full of cursed wax figures with an electric candle. This will be  _ easy _ . When they break down the door, I’m going to jump out the window and fight my way to the duchess to get her scepter. There’s no way any of it could go wrong.” She held up a lollipop mace as big as her head and gave it a few practice swings. She had liberated the weapon from the Kolaches they had defeated earlier. She grabbed a handful of candycorn. “Do you mind if I eat some? I’m going to need some sugar in my system to do this.”

Tart shrugged indifferently. He was less confident in the plan than Mabel.

“I can’t believe I’m fighting for a pile of candycorn. This is loser candy where I come from,” Mabel mused through a mouthful of candy.

Tart sighed.

* * *

Pacifica loped the whole way back to Treacletown on a full stomach and covered with enough clumps of cake that she was unrecognizable, even as Linda Licorice. The bouncing pile of cake in her belly and the anxiety of not knowing what happened in Treacletown gave her a stomach ache. 

When she arrived she found the village swarming with idle Kolaches. “Oh, no! I’m too late,” Pacifica worried to herself. But she walked into the village in hopes that Mabel might only be taken prisoner. The soldiers barely looked at her. As she approached the crossroads at the middle of the town she began to hear a rhythmic pounding sound that filled her with dread.

* * *

The peanut brittle door began to creak under the assault of the Swiss roll.

“Well, that's my cue.” Mabel picked up her cookie shield and lofted the lollipop mace over her head.

Tart climbed down the ladder to the main floor to fight alongside his fellow farmers. Mabel reached out the window and grabbed a licorice rope hanging from a jib at the peak of the barn roof. The door gave way suddenly, triggering a crush of pushing and lots of shouted encouragement from the Kolaches outside. 

“MAAAAAABBBBEEEELLLL!” she cried as she leaped out the window and slid down the licorice. She landed cookie shield first and flattened a fruit-filled pastry beneath her. She struck every Kolache that came within range of her mace, splashing filling and bits of crust across the battlefield. Dozens fell in seconds. The flow of soldiers entering the barn abated as they turned to engage the new threat behind them. She was a true god of destruction, sending them to the great bakery in the afterlife.

“Enough!” the duchess yelled. The Kolaches stopped fighting and parted ways, allowing Mabel to approach the evil ruler.

“I challenge you to a duel, weird doughnut lady!” Mabel pointed her lollipop mace.

* * *

The concentration of Kolaches became densest at the crossroads. They were all facing the villagers’ barn with anticipation. They were so preoccupied they didn’t notice the cake-covered girl approaching. All the same, she kept her distance after what happened at the castle.

“I need to be ready this time,” Pacifica mumbled, and broke off a coil of her long red licorice hair. It would have to serve since her black licorice whip had been taken at the castle. She slipped between empty houses and skirted around the town square to get a better vantage point from the back and inadvertently found herself near the duchess who was watching the proceedings with an air of disdain. She was seated on a campaign chair made of fruit leather with a servant supporting an umbrella to shield her from the sun while another held a tray with a large glass of cider.

The pounding sound stopped with a sudden crash and the Kolaches began shouting and pushing towards the Treacletown barn. Pacifica understood then that the fighting was still underway. She saw Mabel leap out of a window of the barn, shouting her own name, into the crowd of soldiers. There was yelling and screaming. Fruit filling and chunks of crust flew through the air. Pacifica lost sight of her friend in the melee, but the sounds of Kolaches screaming in fear, agony, and rage continued for minutes.

“Enough!” the duchess shouted and the crossroads became strangely quiet. 

Pacifica waited tensely to see what would happen. The mercenary army parted and she could see Mabel standing amid a pile of broken pastries, huffing with exertion. 

Mabel the shield-maiden walked towards the duchess with a lollipop mace in hand. “I challenge you to a duel, weird doughnut lady!”

Duchess Cruller stood and sneered. “I accept your challenge, Claudia Cookie. Your crimes will plague my realm no more!”

Pacifica watched as Mabel ran towards the duchess with the huge lollipop held high in the air. The duchess pointed the scepter at Mabel and spoke, “Flambeau!”. A jet of fire shot from the scepter towards Mabel. She turned her shield towards it and was knocked onto her back.

The duchess cackled, “Did you think you could beat me? I have the Strawberry Scepter; the greatest weapon in all the lands!” She pointed it at the sky and spoke, “À la Mode!”. Huge scoops of vanilla ice cream, the size of basketballs rained down on Mabel, who sheltered under her giant cookie.

Mabel regained her feet, then slowly made headway towards the duchess under bombardment of gumdrops, malt balls, and bonbons. She had just about reached the duchess when an enormous pie smashed into her, sending the shield flying and blowing her back, covered in cloying, yellow custard.

“Had enough?” The villainess sneered.

Mabel coughed up a chunk of pie crust. “I’m just...building up an  _ appetite _ ,” she taunted defiantly.

Cruller levelled the scepter once more. “Then I will give you your  _ just desserts _ .”

Pacifica saw then what she needed to do. She ran into the open and swung the long red licorice. It snapped around the scepter with a crack and dislodged it from the duchess’s hand. Cruller shrieked as Pacifica scooped the scepter off the ground. 

She rushed over and crouched next to Mabel. “Are you okay?”

“You came back!” Mabel was exhausted but happy to see her. “Are you wearing cake!?”

Duchess Cruller began yelling orders at her army, “Attack! Seize them! Get them, you brutes!” The host of soldiers moved in on the two girls from all directions. The girls huddled together.

A column of light shot from the scepter in Pacifica’s hand into the sky and stayed the legion of Kolaches in fear. Everyone stared in awe as a figure appeared above them; Madam Sweets descending from the sky.

“Thank you, my friends,” she said kindly.

Pacifica stood and handed the scepter to the rightful queen. At the sight of Sweets holding the scepter, the Kolache mercenaries broke ranks and fled from Treacletown.

Queen Sweets turned to Cruller. “You have been a poor ruler in my stead, sister. I will banish you from my realm for this. But first I must fulfill an obligation to these two heroes.”

Pacifica extended a hand to Mabel and helped her stand, then turned to the queen. “Your highness, we’d like to go home now.”

Queen Sweets smiled at them and nodded. “Of course. Goodbye, Claudia. Goodbye, Linda. You’ve done so much. Thank you both.” She held up the scepter and moved it in circles.

Mabel waved to the queen as a portal opened up beneath their feet.

* * *

Mabel and Pacifica awoke to find themselves laying on the living room floor in the Shack. The game board and all the pieces were in place exactly as they had left them.

“I’m never having cake again,” Pacifica groaned, holding her belly.

“Ugh,” Mabel moaned. “I was almost roasted like a marshmallow.”

“I  _ ate _ my way out of a dungeon.” Pacifica stared at the living room’s ceiling in horror and disbelief. “How long were we gone anyway?”

Mabel held up her phone, covered in whorls of tiny plastic gems. “It seemed like it was almost all day, but it’s only been a couple hours.” She moaned again. “I hate alternate dimensions.”

The girls laid on the floor processing their experiences until they heard the basement elevator arrive at the top floor and sat up. Seconds later, Ford and Dipper burst into the room. “We analyzed some sensor data I had collected around the valley,” Ford announced excitedly. “And we found an acoustic signal coming from underground. I have it here.” He held up a Tapeman and pressed play. After a few seconds of static the recorder played a rhythmic slapping sound. 

The girls frowned in concentration. Mabel sat up. “Wait, I’ve heard that before. Is that—”

“Yes,” Ford interrupted excitedly. “It’s hamboning.”

Dipper looked at them suspiciously. “Hold on, what are you guys doing up here? Why is DD&MD out?”

“Is that the infinity-sided die?” Ford picked up the glowing object and carefully put it back in its small box.

“Guys, I can explain everything,” Mabel sighed, laying back on the floor.

Be sure to read the next adventure:

The Search for McGucket


End file.
